


the first night

by SalazarTipton



Series: devil!dad and spidey!son [4]
Category: Daredevil (TV), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017)
Genre: Adoption, Awkwardness, Family Dinners, Gen, Hangover, coming home, devildad, spideyson
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-07
Updated: 2018-12-07
Packaged: 2019-09-13 20:37:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,593
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16899477
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SalazarTipton/pseuds/SalazarTipton
Summary: Peter thinks change should be normal to him by now. He went from his toy-cluttered room with his parents to the organized one with Aunt May and Uncle Ben. Now he’s going from this dorm room with a cross above his bed and Bible beside him to...well, he doesn’t know actually. He’s talked to Matt almost everyday since...since the day they met, but Peter has no idea what to expect from his home. What do lawyers live like? Blind guys? He feels further and further out of his depth the more questions he asks himself.





	the first night

Foggy and Karen are the absolute worst influences. He can’t even remember getting home last night. He scrambles out of bed when his clock chimes and nearly beans himself off of the corner of his dresser in his haste.  _ How much did I have last night?  _ He stands up, leaning heavily on the dresser and gets his legs underneath himself. 

“Okay. Important day, gotta get ready,” he whispers to himself as encouragement to get to the door. If he wasn’t so deeply familiar with the layout of his apartment, he might have needed his stick to get from the bedroom to the coffee pot with how out of whack his head is. Hangovers are hell on heightened senses. How did he always fail to remember that when Foggy asked him to go out? 

The coffee pot starts gurgling and spurting, filling the room with the sweet yet bitter scent of his morning nectar. He’s been drinking less coffee lately, but not by choice. Karen tries her best, but he wouldn’t wish her brew even on the person they’re suing right now about ADA compliance in emergency situations for a series of newly built office buildings. He lets himself bend down and place his head down on the counter. The coolness of the faux stone is a wonder on his aching temples. His eyes slip closed for a second… 

Matt makes it to Saint Agnes’ with only a partial headache, for which he’s grateful, and one cup of coffee in him.  

He can sense the shake of Father Lantom’s head when he walks in and Sister Maggie’s judgement, but for once she doesn’t feel the need to lecture him about his life choices.

“Matthew, today’s the day,” he greets him. Matt can hear the smile in his voice. “Think you’re ready?”

“I don’t think I’ll ever be ready, but I’m willing so it’ll have to do,” he says with a small laugh tinging his words. 

“There are far worse places for Peter to go. Being with his father is the best fit--for the both of you,” Sister Maggie speaks up. From the shift of fabric and a short pause, Matt extrapolates that the two of them are looking at each other, but he can’t figure out what brought on the odd air settling around their conversation. 

“We’ve talked about this how many times now? You’re concern and seeking counsel on how to be the right fit for Peter--that’s within your ability--is sign enough for me that you’re going to be a fine father.”

Father Lantom wishes them off as he heads towards the confessional. 

“Lead the way,” Matt says with a faint smile. To anyone that doesn’t know him it looks like a normal, personable one, but Sister Maggie does know him and sees straight through the frail facade to the anxiousness bubbling up within him. She doesn’t say anything, but takes his hand to guide him up to the dormitories. If she gives it a reassuring squeeze and doesn’t let go as the go, neither of them mention it. The walk to Peter’s room takes longer than Matt remembers it being back when he lived in these dorms. His heart spends each step feeling like it’s about to constrict itself with fear. 

* * *

Peter looks from the window to his bag and to the door for the second time since he sat down. The bed is stiff under him, but he’s grown used to it over the couple weeks he’s been here. Even though he thought he never would at first, Peter got used to a lot of things around here: the bed, schedule, church bells, and the hovering guilt of being surrounded by nuns. Now that this place looks less like a prison and more like the barren sleeping quarters it is, he feels a tightness in his chest at the thought of not seeing it again.

He thinks change should be normal to him by now. He went from his toy-cluttered room with his parents to the organized one with Aunt May and Uncle Ben. Now he’s going from this dorm room with a cross above his bed and Bible beside him to...well, he doesn’t know actually. He’s talked to Matt almost everyday since...since the day they met, but Peter has no idea what to expect from his home. What do lawyers live like? Blind guys? He feels further and further out of his depth the more questions he asks himself. 

The suitcase by the door has the few clothes he took from his home when Matt and Karen brought him to pick up the things he’d need--promising they’d be back to go through the house and figure out what he wanted to do with it all. Peter doesn’t think he’ll ever be ready for that day. 

* * *

While Matt was at the orphanage picking up Peter, Foggy and Karen apologized about going overboard last night by stocking the kitchen and texting him an easy recipe for tonight since  _ “The kid deserves a home cooked meal, despite you’re inability to cook, Murdock! If you call for take out, I’ll know,”  _ Karen left in her message.

He pulls out his cutting board and gets started, leaving Peter some time and space to get acquainted with his new environment. St. Agnes’ is an amazing place and was a real blessing in Matt’s life, but he completely empathizes with wanting to get back to the creature comforts. Peter closes the door to his new bedroom and hesitates at the edge of the living room. Anxiety is coming off of him in sweeping waves that pull on Matt’s heart. 

“Everything alright?” Matt wants to hit himself.  _ Alright? How can anything be alright for him now? _

“Uh, I’m fine.” Lie. “Want some help with that?” Peter asks, referring to the vegetables Matt’s cutting up for a salad. 

They work together under Matt’s careful instructions, trying to sound as competent as he can muster. Peter tosses the salad while Matt pulls the chicken out of the oven. He’s surprised it actually smells good and that the oven works properly. (Matt isn’t sure if he’s ever used it before.) Aside from a few mishaps of Peter moving something Matt set down, they gather the food up on their plates without anything crashing down around him like Matt’s been worried about. Although, he’s not sure what could possibly make tonight more awkward than he feels seeing as they both had to sit through the  _ ‘so, I guess I’m your dad?’ _ talk. 

“You can ask me about myself. How else are we going to get to know each other?” Matt asks. He sets his plate down on the coffee table and picks up the remote to mute the television that’s been playing some show Matt’s never heard of, but Peter seems to know. 

“Uh, okay, but I don’t really know what I’m supposed to be asking here,” Peter admits. He takes a seat beside Matt, leaving a good few inches between them. 

“Anything you like. I want for us to be honest and open with each other. While I understand that may take some time to earn from you, I’m told adults are supposed to lead by example,” Matt shrugs with a cockier smile that Peter’s ever seen him sport before. He gets the feeling Matt uses it quite often. “I’ll try to be an open book for you. I won’t be offended by what you’re curious about.”

“Why’d you want to be a lawyer?” Peter asks around a mouthful of potatoes. 

“Thurgood Marshall--a Supreme Court Justice. One of my first books in braille was one of his.”

“And you read it on purpose? That sounds more like torture--like a hundred times worse than English class,” Peter says, shaking his head a little. 

“I take it you aren’t a Lit and Philosophy kind of guy?” Peter points a hand at Matt in a wild gesture as if saying  _ duh _ ! 

“Dude, why would I wanna sit around guessing at Hamlet’s motives when I could be in one of the science labs? Numbers and formulas just make sense! The only guess work comes in when you’re, like, testing a hypothesis--and that way you can come to a solid conclusion,” Peter rambles off. Matt tracks his hand motions with a bit of focus and a smile starts to form. 

“So, you’re a science guy, through and through.” Peter nods. “You thinking about pursuing that?” 

Peter rubs a hand over the back of his neck for a second and shifts his legs. Matt sends him what he hopes comes off as an understanding smile. He remembers all the years of people asking what he wanted to be--hell even random strangers in the supermarket asked him--at least up until he lost his sight and went to the orphanage. Matt quickly caught on that nobody asked him because they didn’t want to have to explain why he couldn’t do what he wanted--the blind people just didn’t… Sometimes he wishes all those idiots could see just how wrong they were. Even without his heightened senses, he’s never been some helpless little duckling. 

“I-I’d like to, but that’s a bit far off for me, maybe?” Peter says, his words tight in his throat. 

Matt lets him off the hook. He pats Peter’s leg and plucks a cucumber off of his fork with his teeth.

"How...how did you become blind?" 

Matt lets out a sigh of relief. At least this question he's had a lot of practice answering. 

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> thank you so much for reading! please let me know what you think. i love hearing your thoughts and ideas. i'm so open to suggestions on where the series is headed. i have some things planned, but there are so many possibilities in between it all.  
> come find me on [tumblr](http://bialiencowboy.tumblr.com/)


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